


all the gunfights and the limelights

by peaflower



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Blood and Injury, Enemies to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Canon Compliant, very badly researched! i know nothing about intelligence agents or physical combat!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27791485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaflower/pseuds/peaflower
Summary: Oikawa Tooru is rude, childish and reckless. He might also be the most formidable agent Wakatoshi has ever met. When they're assigned as partners for the most important mission of his career yet, he sets out to make the best of the situation. He's going to capture the damn bastard even if it kills him, that is, if Oikawa doesn't get them both killed first.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	all the gunfights and the limelights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT! This chapter begins with a scene of someone being harassed and touched (on the arm) without consent. If that is something that you would prefer not to read, please skip the top half of the first paragraph up until the sentence that begins with "Wakatoshi" which will be marked with two asterisks. Thank you!

There is a man talking the ear off the lone woman who sits by the bar. Wakatoshi is seated in a booth situated at the far left corner, watching the situation unfold intently. She looks mildly uncomfortable, fingers twitching at the edge of her stool as her eyes dart back and forth between the man’s face and the exit. The man leans closer to whisper something in her ear that makes her nose scrunch up in distaste before she’s rising from her seat. Realising her intent, he grabs her by the wrist forcefully with a sleazy smile. **Wakatoshi is about to walk over to intervene when a stranger - seemingly materialising from thin air - smashes the creep’s face onto the countertop with one hand, the resounding smack drawing the immediate attention of other patrons. His grip on the woman releases and Wakatoshi jogs over to her quickly, clearing his throat softly to make his presence known.

“Let me walk you out.”

The stranger gives him a brief nod of acknowledgement before he returns to smashing the head on the countertop with more force. He’s holding a glass of whiskey in his other hand, swirling the amber liquid with a bored expression as his victim struggles futilely. Wakatoshi admits he’s impressed even though he disapproves of the blasé attitude. He returns his attention to the woman, her eyes still blinking dazedly as they step out of the establishment. He trudges on ahead to give her some space and to hail a cab. When she catches up, she murmurs a soft mention of thanks.

“You’re welcome. Are you alright?”

She nods in assent. “I could’ve handled it myself, but I appreciate the help. Could you convey my thanks to your friend as well?”

“My friend?”

She smirks, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yeah, the one with the heavy hand.”

Oh.

The cab comes to a stop by the curb before he can correct her, and she slips in quietly with a cordial wave. He supposes he could head home; he has an early meeting scheduled with Kuroo tomorrow morning, but he was asked to deliver a message and he can’t say he isn’t intrigued.

*

“So, have we learned our lesson, creepy-chan? Pretty illegal to be harassing someone like that, don’t you think?”

Wakatoshi grimaces as he walks back in; the stranger is making a spectacle of the man under his grip, speaking at a volume meant to carry. Everybody is staring.

He taps him lightly on the shoulder. “Excuse me,”

The stranger turns his attention towards him, and it’s the first time Wakatoshi gets a good look at him. His hair is a cool hazel, wind-swept and perfectly tousled. His eyes are a matching shade, but the depth of them is strikingly intense. He’s tall and well-built, muscle definition obvious in the fit of his skinny jeans and white shirt. He’s, quite objectively, gorgeous.

“Should I contact the authorities? I do not think you should be making a scene in here.”

The stranger stares at him some more, scoffing loudly. “And what exactly are the police going to do? Give him a slap on the wrist?”

Wakatoshi frowns. “They will be more equipped to handle such a situation. It is dangerous to involve yourself. Moreover, you might be making some of the other patrons uncomfortable.”

The brunet's eyes perform a quick sweep across the bar to assess the crowd's reaction to the altercation, defiance obvious in his stance. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “You’re a real piece of work. Do I look like I’m even remotely in danger right now?” He lifts his captive’s head up by the hair, tugging harshly even as he bends down to smile sweetly at the man, honeyed venom in his voice. “What do you think? Think the crowd's enjoying our show?" A laugh bubbles out from his chest - light as air - condescending and meant to provoke.

The man growls, glowering at the taunt. He kicks a leg out, aiming for his captor’s shin. Wakatoshi extends his hand to pull the stranger to safety, but he’s quick and evades the attack easily. He takes a large stride and twists his grip, fingers sliding from the man’s nape to his throat, clamping his windpipe tightly. The man lets out a choked breath, knees collapsing under him.

Wakatoshi blinks as he crumples to the floor, gasping desperately for air.

Agile, sharp, aggressive.

When his gaze slides back up, the handsome stranger is already taking his leave, coat slung over his shoulder. His retreating back fills Wakatoshi with a strange sense of urgency, and suddenly it is imperative that he learns more. Anything. 

“Wait!”

“He’s your problem now, Mr. Know-It-All, since I'm clearly not equipped to handle it myself.”

“What’s your name?”

The stranger doesn’t even spare him a glance. His free hand raises into the air to form a fist, save for one finger, and then he’s out of sight.

How uncouth.

*

Over the weekend, Kuroo had his secretary relay a message to him. Wakatoshi was to report straight to his office first thing on Monday morning for an important discussion. There was a mention of a “special assignment” that made his heart race, but he tried his best not to get his hopes up. Looking at Kuroo now, he thinks he made the right call. He’s sat at his desk, legs bouncing visibly under the clear glass, and his smile is crooked but wide. It’s the most excitement he’s ever seen the head of the intelligence agency display since he joined Nekoma, but there’s an undeniable anxious energy radiating off him in waves. His fingers tap furiously against the desk, blunt fingernails clacking noisily against the glass. Wakatoshi tries not to wince at the harsh noise as it echoes around the room, but the nervous tic in Kuroo’s jaw only unnerves him more.

“Kuroo-san,”

“I told you, you don’t have to call me that.”

“We are at work, and you are my superior. I'm already speaking too informally as it is.”

“Well, as your boss, I’m asking you to talk to me like you do off the clock. It gets way too stuffy in here.”

Wakatoshi sighs wearily. “Fine. Why am I here, Kuroo?”

“Straight to the point as always, huh? You didn’t even ask about my weekend,” He clutches a hand to his heart dramatically. “I’m hurt, Ushijima.”

Wakatoshi ignores the theatrics. “You’ll live.”

“You wound me, old friend.” He grins lazily but, luckily, continues. “We’re welcoming a new agent today. I want you to meet him.”

The announcement stuns him, and he’s instantly wary. Kuroo handpicks all the agency’s recruits, and he’s extremely stringent in his selection process. They haven’t seen a newcomer in two years, not that it had hindered their work up until recently. Uneasiness wraps around him like vines. He swallows. “Is something wrong?”

Kuroo’s gaze softens. “You’ll still be out of commission for a while-”

“Kuroo,”

“Don’t fight me on this, Ushijima, please. I’m doing what’s best for you and the agency.”

Wakatoshi can only bow his head in silence. He’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. The silence stretches on longer, uncomfortably so, and his stomach flips. He looks up, but Kuroo is already watching him, calculating. It makes him feel like an animal in captivity.

“Reo’s back.”

Two words, and his blood boils. But Kuroo’s eyes are still on him, watching for a reaction, so he reins in his anger and smooths out his features. He fights to keep a calm composure, remembering to take a deep breath through his nose before he responds.

When he's confident his face will not betray his feelings, he speaks carefully. “And you want to send a newcomer after him? That's a funeral waiting to happen." And it is. Reo's reputation precedes him, and the mere mention of his name strikes fear into the hearts of those who has heard of the hardened criminal and his misdeeds. Wakatoshi has experienced his bloodthirst firsthand, and he can't help the way his fingers shake at the memory. He folds his hands behind his back, praying Kuroo doesn't notice. "Why not Bokuto? Or Aran?”

Kuroo nods. “Everyone here is top class. I have a fantastic eye, after all. All of you are my aces.” He smiles encouragingly, and there is a tinge of affection colouring his tone. It calms the beginnings of the storm inside him.

“Nekoma’s agents are unquestionably outstanding. You command dignity, awe, admiration.” A deliberate pause. “Maybe that’s our problem.”

“What?”

“We chased Reo for six months the last time. Do you know how long you take to complete a mission on average, Ushijima?”

Wakatoshi nods – of course he does, it was something he took pride in.

Kuroo tells him anyway. “Five weeks. We chased him for five times that, and he still got away. And I know you think that’s something you have to take responsibility for, but it’s not. If anything, I’m the one to blame.”

Wakatoshi opens his mouth to argue but Kuroo stops him with a raised palm.

“I should’ve given you more resources after we hit three months. I don’t know, better equipment, more backup, something. You’re good, Ushijima, the best actually. And I hope you know I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it. But this guy, he moves in the shadows. He’s fast but quiet,” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure. “Really fucking smart too. Worst part? He's a hundred percent onto us.”

“Which is why you need a wildcard, someone sneakier and smarter. Isn’t that right, Kuroo-chan?”

Wakatoshi stills. That voice.

He needs no further confirmation when he whips his head around and his heartbeat races in recognition.

The stranger from the bar.

He’s dressed in a different fashion today - baby blue dress shirt, fitted vest, and a tailored suit jacket with matching slacks. The three-piece suits him just as well as his casual wear did. He leans against the door frame with his head tipped back. His posture is relaxed, eyes closed and lips stretched in a languid smile. He must have been standing there for a while. He's as stunning as Wakatoshi remembers.

Slowly, he inclines his head away from the frame, eyelids lifting to take in the scene before him. They turn as round as saucers when he spots Wakatoshi, evidently recognising him too. They promptly narrow in judgement as he sneers offendedly. “What are _you_ doing here?”

He’s as impolite as he remembers, too.

Wakatoshi is decidedly unimpressed. “This is the agent you were talking about? The agent who will be undetectable even to Reo? Are you aware he practically gave a public performance last night?”

Kuroo is looking far too amused for what’s at stake here, eyebrows waggling playfully. “Ooooh, what kind?”

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Kuroo.”

The stranger from the bar tosses his head back to laugh delightedly, circling to the back of Kuroo’s chair and draping himself over it. His hands sling around the agency head’s shoulders in a half-hug. “Oh, Kuroo-chan, you know I adore you.”

Wakatoshi’s ears begin to ring. “You’re familiar with this man?”

“I should be asking you that." He cocks an eyebrow, "How do you know Oikawa?”

 _Oikawa_. A name to the face.

Oikawa proceeds to slice his hand against Kuroo’s neck. Wakatoshi is appalled.

“Ow! What was that for, shittykawa?”

“First of all, only Iwa-chan can call me that. Second, how could you give my precious name away to that uncultured man!” He says (whines), stomping his feet on the ground like a toddler.

They will never catch Reo.

“Why? You guys had a sexy no-names romp thing?”

“Ew, Kuroo-chan! I have better taste than that!”

Wakatoshi is developing a headache. He just wants to get this meeting over with and move on to the mission briefing.

Kuroo, apparently, is in no rush for the same. He sports a look of grave insult, “Hey! Our Ushijima-kun is ripped as hell.”

“So is Iwa-chan but you don't see me trying to bone him.”

Wakatoshi has heard enough. He’s on edge from the news of Reo’s return and even more frustrated that he can’t do anything about it. Even so, he’s going to make sure the mission falls into the hands of someone who can.

“I do not think Oikawa is the right candidate for the job.”

A vacuum opens up in the middle of the office, swallowing every decibel of sound into its infinite chasm. The man in question tilts his chin up, and if looks could kill then Wakatoshi would be dead but as it is, he stares back boldly.

Kuroo, predictably, disrupts the moment with a drawn-out whistle.

Oikawa stalks towards him, close, closer, then past him. He’s hovering behind him now, the heat of his body close enough that Wakatoshi feels it on his back. “What are you-”

A hand snakes across his shoulder, and every nerve in his body is on high alert, remembering the way the shorter man has disabled the creep at the bar just hours ago. He refuses to be his second victim. But then the hand glides further down to his chest, and Wakatoshi freezes.

Oikawa’s breath puffs against his ear. “Is someone still a little grumpy that I didn’t leave him with a name last night?”

He dares not look anywhere else but straight ahead, and Kuroo’s smile can only be described as wicked. He wonders if he’s jumping to his own conclusions about what happened last night, and the tip of his ears burn.

“Oh, did I hit the nail on the head, Mr. Know-It-All?”

He feels his irritation spike, and he wants to whirl around to tell Oikawa he’s wrong but Kuroo takes a quick look at the gold watch hanging off his wrist and rises quickly from his chair. The clap of his hands is loud and decisive.

“Alright, lovebirds, pack it up. I let you have your fun, briefing time. Now.”

The presence behind him steps away and Wakatoshi’s lungs contract, releasing a loaded exhale. Oikawa chirps happily. “Eager, aren’t we, Kuroo-chan?”

“Like you aren’t,” Kuroo retorts easily. “Conference room B, third floor.”

Oikawa gives him a mock salute, then turns to stick a petulant tongue out at Wakatoshi as he strides out from the room. He blocks the door after Oikawa leaves, giving Kuroo a meaningful look. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Look, I know Oikawa is uhh,” Kuroo waves his hands wildly as he racks his brain for an appropriate word. “Colourful? But I promise you, he’s good.”

“I know he’s good,” and Wakatoshi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised to find that he means it, he’s seen him in action. “But are you sure he’s the right man for Reo? He commands even more attention than any of us.”

“Not command," Something kindles in Kuroo's gaze when he corrects him. "Draw." He's leering at him now, absolute confidence making itself known in his demeanor.

“What does that mean?”

And Kuroo smiles that same wicked smile from five minutes ago, nudging Wakatoshi’s shoulder to look out at the hallway. “See for yourself.”

A few metres ahead of them, Oikawa stands by the elevator with a purple lanyard dangling precariously off his fingertips. The smirk on his face is unbearably smug and Wakatoshi wants to wipe it off his face.

“Better catch up quickly. Can’t enter the conference room without your ID, can you?” His boss slash friend is enjoying this a little too much for his liking.

Wakatoshi grits his teeth. This is about to be the most insufferable experience in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are most welcome! :D I am also on blue bird app if you would like to see me yell about ushioi for some reason.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/caliwaizumi)


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